Opening our hands, closets, attics, garages and homes
Eight 53-foot 18-wheelers stacked floor to ceiling with household goods that will benefit hundreds and provide critical resources for strategic ministries.

Clearing our schedules to serve "We've had more than 30 teams and over 360 people that have gone down in the last year. Hundreds and hundreds of lives that have been impacted in an amazing way for the Kingdom, and I can't wait to see how it all unfolds in the future." --Scott McReynolds

Scott initiated and coordinated our initial relief work in Biloxi, MS, his hometown.

A "Shoe Sunday" Story. . .
On "Shoe Sunday," I did not give up my shoes; mostly because I was wearing sandals--smelly, well-worn sandals that I didn't think anyone would want. I didn't feel guilty holding on to them. I didn't feel disobedient. I did, however, utter a sincere prayer. "Lord, if you want me to give up my shoes, I'll do it. Show me when and where."

Months later, I was downtown walking to my car after meeting a friend. I noticed a man sitting in the doorway of an abandoned restaurant. There was a very cool, fall breeze and the man was barefoot. Immediately a small voice said, "You should give him your shoes." I glanced at my $100 shoes that I had owned for three days--purchased with a gift card. "That's crazy," I thought, and got in my car and drove off. The prompting was persistent: "You should give him your shoes." It was weighing me down. "Okay, Lord, give me a sign, before I reach the interstate. Show me this is of you." Just then someone from our church drove by, rolling down their window as they passed to yell hello. "God, was that the sign? I mean, that cannot be a coincidence, but surely you can do better!"

I turned onto the Interstate. In my confused state of mind, I went the wrong way. Before I could even lament my poor decision-making skills, I looked up and saw a very large billboard. It was a billboard advertising the shoe store where I typically buy my shoes. The words were both poignant and hilarious: "We have the shoes for you!" "Okay, Lord, I understand..." I quickly exited the Interstate and back-tracked to find the shoeless man. As I drove, I found myself willing, but not convinced it would work out. "He's probably not there anymore. He won't have the same size feet as me..." I am size 12.

I parked my car and approached the old restaurant. I came around the corner and there he was. "Can you spare some change?" he asked. "I might be able to do better than that" I replied. "What size are your feet?" He looked at me, puzzled, and said "12." "Do you want my shoes?" I said with resignation. I explained that I felt God was leading me to give him my shoes. Excitedly he tried them on. "They fit great!" he said. Of course they did, I thought. God never measures incorrectly.

He showed me his completely worn down shoes. Three-day-olds were the best I could offer him! I noticed his grubby looking socks lying on the pavement and tried to push my luck. "Do you want my socks, too?" He looked at me with a sour face. "Naw, man, that's disgusting!" With the ice broken, I shook his hand, introduced myself and sat down beside him. We talked. He told me his story. I listened. I left him my shoes.

I don't know how long the homeless man wore those shoes. Maybe he pawned them the next day. It doesn't matter. I needed to be obedient to God and a prompting of the heart... accompanied by a sign, or two!

Joel Guinness

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